Something Wanted
by Daishiko
Summary: Mello always comes up second. slight MelloNear


**Title:** Something You Want  
**Fandom:** Death Note  
**Characters:** Mello (slight Near/Mello)  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Mello hates being second.

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Something You Want

Mello had been second his whole life. It seemed that his existence was central around beating that one truth in order to triumph over his fate. His pride would not let himself be beaten, though his mind had taken to expecting it.

His earliest memories, vague but frequently remembered, were of his mother and sister. The woman had long, droopy blonde hair and a voice raspy from cigarettes. He still remembered how the smell of tobacco and cheap perfume would grab at and choke him whenever she was near. She dressed in tight black and wore short skirts that never stayed on for long. The girl had short dirty blonde hair that was always matted and unbrushed, sticking up at random angles. She wore ugly colors and seldom washed, which seemed to oddly suit her always dark, cynical expression.

When the men came, dull and tense in their green and brown spotted uniforms, Mello and Nadia would be shut up in the bathroom, waiting for the moans and screams and squeaks to fade. Nadia would whisper to him during these times, harsh and accusing. Mommy never did these things until Mello came. It was Mello's fault that Mommy had to do this. Mello was worthless and they didn't want him anyway, so it'd be better if he hadn't come at all.

Mello didn't really understand, but it must be true, since Nadia was five and thus knew everything.

When his mother came, removing the chair from the door knob, she always went to Nadia first. She would look at her sadly, the most coherent feeling she ever got, and hug her tightly. After setting Nadia down, she'd stumble into the single room apartment for a drink. Mello would wait, but his hug never came.

Their mother would always hit Nadia on particularly stressful days. The screaming would come fast and unexpected and soon the darker girl would receive a slap and fierce scolding. Hadn't Mommy told her not to look so happy and smile so prettily? Didn't Mommy say to keep the dirt on her? Wasn't it clear that mustard and not pink were the colors Nadia was to wear today? Why wasn't she ugly like Mommy needed her to be?

When mother smacked Mello, she didn't even bother with excuses or expectations. She just did it until whatever her intention was had been met before locking herself in the bathroom again. Mello would curl up on the small pile of blankets that made up his cot, thinking about how hungry he was, blocking out the sound of sobs. Even in pain, he was never first.

Later, during his research at Wammy's House, Mello would come to find out that Slovenia's war for independence was short and lasted less than a year. It sounded efficient and victorious, but that wasn't how the boy remembered it. He recalled the bathroom door bursting open and Nadia screaming. In the room beyond, the floor was painted with blood, and more men with guns were around the bed, laughing at a motionless lump in the sheets.

Nadia pushed him in front of her, screaming and begging. She, as always, was first. Mello felt her hands slip from his shoulders and her body crumple to the floor. Mello knew he was to be second again, but the shot never came. A voice from outside called the green clothed men away, and the little blonde boy was left alone.

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It was days before the police checked the building. They entered the still open door, finding Mello in the main room. He was staring at his mother's body, babbling the different organs and arteries that protruded from the wounds. When placed in the local orphanage, he refused to sleep, demanding a book to look up the ones he hadn't known.

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The books at the refuge were varying and dry, but Mello was content with them. The knowledge was safe and distant, but comforting in a way that he could pull around him like armor, protecting him from the outside world and keeping him from his mind.

Memories of screams and shots and crimson sheets and small hands pushing him forward were out of his mind, and that was the way he wanted it.

The thicker books, full of theorem and maps and ancient times, required some assistance from an adult or the consultation of a dictionary, but Mello was soon resolved to be the first to understand them all.

It was never to happen though, since upon starting the last book, the warden informed him he was to be moved that day to Wammy's House in a place called Britain, which he had read a bit about in the library.

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Wammy's House was much grander than anywhere Mello had ever been. Most children might be overwhelmed or frightened by such a large establishment, but Mello was neither. The wide, open rooms were more pleasing than the overcrowded, confiding ones. The emptiness that spun about the place made him feel less trapped, less enforced. This place made him feel like he was here because he wanted to be, by choice.

There were not only more books here than he had ever imagined, but four separate libraries. The man told him that he was expected to take classes daily, with the other children in his level, on many different subjects, and that they would all be tested frequently. On the tour through the main library, Mello was shown a large board, which showed the test scores and ranks for every child in the facility.

Mello noticed at the very top was one perfect score, claimed by one letter; L.

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When Mello - who was using this name by then - boasted to the girl next to him in class that he was going to read every book in all of the libraries before he left the orphanage at fifteen, she laughed at him. Apparently everyone who was anyone who knew anything, a group which Mello was annoyed to find himself excluded from, knew that L had already done that ages ago.

Remembering the alias with the perfect score, Mello thought that, if he was destined to always be second to someone, this was the person he wanted it to be.

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Mello hated Near.

From the first time he watched him work, slow and deliberate and exact, it made the blonde want to scream. His process was perfect. Coldly perfect and it pissed Mello off to no end.

Mello could come to the same conclusion at the same time, but his would never be as praised, as revered. His work had scratches and tests and abandoned hypothesizes. It was right, but somehow not good enough, and he hated it.

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Dodgeball was quite possibly the second best thing ever invented, after chocolate.

Mello not only got to throw things at other people, but he was good at it. In fact, he was the best. People feared and respected him on the grounds, and the power the boy felt because of that was almost better than that he received in the classroom.

Here, there was no Near or L. It was Mello who was king, and they all knew it.

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On the first night Mello was moved into the same room as Near, he woke from a nightmare about green men and formerly blonde hair that was now encrusted completely in bright red.

His eyes opened to find himself surrounded by assembled Gundam action figures. He crossed the room, stepping on several newly completed puzzles, and beat Near with his fists, screaming in Slavic, until a teacher came in and broke them up.

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At twelve years old, Mello felt like his world was being ripped apart by the seams. For nearly a decade, though he berated himself for the weakness, there had been constants that he depended on. As he stood in the main library, staring up at the board that was no longer as big as it once had seemed, one of those constants had completely vanished. There were frantic whispers all around him, and he quickly scanned and board for any possible mistake or explanation, but it was just gone. There was no L anywhere.

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They were called into Wammy's office, Mello and Near, but it wasn't for the usual speech about cooperation and the proper use of furniture. The old man told them about the institute's true aspirations, to guide and teach the most intelligent people they could, which Mello could quite an obvious mission and should have thought this the goal of all such places. However, the man went on about L, which made them both stir slightly, and about exceeded expectations and something about chocolate, which just made Mello hungry.

Finally, the man got to his point. L had apparently been doing serious detective work from his room at the orphanage, and now that he was fifteen, he would be doing it outside of it. Mello thought that this might be why no one had ever actually seen L in all of his years at Wammy House, save a few liars that he promptly threw several dodgeballs at. Since L was already a very important entity in the name of justice, there needed to be a successor lined up in case anything were to happen to the original, and Near and Mello were currently the top candidates.

The blonde knew immediately that Wammy meant that Near was the top candidate and he was the second, but even though he didn't expect this coldly perfect boy to ever be below him, Mello wouldn't give it up without a fight.

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Afterward, they were allowed to meet him for the first time, Mello strived to be just like L. He kept his way of processing information and forming plans, but everything external was changed to become exactly what L would want of him. He dressed in a baggy black shirt with loose jeans and wore no socks, much to the chagrin of his teachers. Mello tried to sit up on the chair, bunched over in a ball, but it hurt and made him feel far too much like Near for comfort. He ate only chocolate, since it was the most readily available snack in the orphanage, and stayed up most of the night researching and just thinking.

Near called him sentimental and ridiculous to think that his appearance would have any impact on the final decision and dismissed Mello's retort of how Near's shoes and socks had also disappeared all week.

Mello was sick of being dismissed and prayed that someday he'd finally be first and be free of this misery.

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Years later, after the Kira case had finally come to an end, Near rolled off of Mello and headed for the shower. When he got out, the blonde had the sheets wrapped tightly around his body and was staring hard at the wall ahead.

Near sighed, "What?"

Mello didn't look at him. "I'm just thinking how fucked up my life is and how I've made a complete waste of it all. I was supposed to die in Slovenia, but I didn't. I was supposed to succeed L, but I wasn't good enough in time. I was supposed to catch Kira, but that damned idiot, Matsuda, somehow beat me to it. I'm supposed to be a fucking Catholic, but for some reason I like sucking your cock.

"I'm so pathetic that I can't even top you."

His fists where balled up around the fabric, rapidly growing whiter with the tension, and his eyes sparked with wildness that the other had seen many times before. Near lifted one hand to twirl a stand of hair around his fingers and reached with the other to throw Mello an errant chocolate bar before dropping to the floor and assembling an old puzzle.

"Mello is always about doing things his own way, but he never thinks about why he's doing those things to begin with. If you're really the rogue you make yourself out to be, then why do you care about the expectations of others so much? Is doing something you want and being who you are really such a pathetic thing?"

Mello eyes were wide and contemplative when they turned to the white haired man, as if taking in something horrible. Near remembered him looking like that only once before.

"Fuck," he concluded, taking the chocolate bar from his lap and beginning to gnaw on it.

Near raised an eyebrow. "If you continue with such a high sugar diet you'll risk diabetes, seizures, immune system damage, various cancers, tooth decay, heart disease, impaired DNA, depression, gait, and obesity."

Mello smirked at him and threw off the covers, lying completely naked and sprawled across the bed. "I don't care."

"I won't fuck you anymore if you're too fat, toothless, and sick to make it pleasant for me."

"I don't care," Mello said in a sing-song voice.

"You won't fit into your leather anymore."

"...Point."

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A/N: I used the name Mello throughout because it's Mello whose recalling those events, and not the toddler who is living them. I also did this and refrained from direct reference to the big event in chapter 59, since that would also spoil anyone who is not that far in the manga. I hoped everyone liked it. Reviews are always welcome. 


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